The Boneshaker maker
by Zombiphobic
Summary: After being knocked out by Dr. Minnericht, Briar Wilkes Blue has a hard time separating dreams from reality. A quick one shot of Briar and Levi's reunion. Warning for fresh-squeezed citrus.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own any rights to any characters etc from C. M. Priest's Boneshaker. I only love steampunk zombie-killing, airship-flying, dream world romancing characters and stuff. This is only a quick drabble since only one Boneshaker fanfic seems to exist anywhere by anyone ever.

_"Again the blue lights flashed. Minnericht didn't argue. He said, "Let me think about it."_

_And faster than Briar would've believed the man could move, he struck her across the head with the butt of the gun._

_A searing bolt of pain sounded like a gong against her temple._

_And everything everywhere went dark."_

Briar slept longer than she ever had in her life. She dreamt of tumbling down soggy grass hills, walking through thick forests, bumping into trees, and of swimming in the icy ocean.

But mostly, she dreamt of Leviticus and a throbbing pain in her head. He was in every dream, and in the spaces of semi-consciousness that punctuated her sleep, she saw him then, sitting at the edge of her bed. And he spoke to her.

Sometimes he spoke to her of forgotten things – long passed memories of trivial exchanges she could not understand. And she thought she spoke back. But then he would speak of troubling things, and Briar would fret restlessly, fisting the downy sheets that smelled like dust and kerosene and old flowers.

"He's fine, you know." Levi said from the edge of her bed.

Briar opened her eyes, but it was a struggle to keep them so and her head hurt, so she closed them again. After an indeterminable amount of time, he spoke again.

"He'll be better off with me. I can provide him with the life he wants and the accommodations he deserves." His voice was earnest, but husky and low. She turned to him then.

"Ezekiel is not staying with you." It sounded casual; a statement rather than a command. He had been facing the wall, but now he turned to her as well. He wore a mask of impatient resolve, as though she was a child throwing a fit and he was merely waiting for her to finish. It was then, as they looked right in each other's eyes that she saw his face.

In the dim twilight glow of the lamps, his gruesome face looked even more disfigured. He had once been handsome, but she could no longer see his distinguishing features past the Blight burn scar that stretched across the right side of his face. She reached out, his horrible fate tugging at her heartstrings, but was distracted by her own hand. It looked so very pale – so very clean. She touched it with her other hand, reveling in the smoothness of her skin, and brought both hands to her face. She was soft and clean, and where the back of her hand brushed her hair, it felt silky.

"Is this a dream?" She could not remember being this clean in 16 years, and wondered if cleanliness had always felt this way. Levi's face softened.

"Yes, love. You are dreaming, but I am not." His cryptic response made her immediately suspicious. She turned her head to break his gaze, but having him out of sight made a sick feeling begin to blossom in her belly. Too fast for her to register even if she had been looking, his hand was on her face, turning it back to his paralyzing stare. It was cool against her warm cheek, intimate and tender. She felt her face go hot, starting again at her ears and spreading down her neck, like she had in his office. It made her injured forehead throb. She was sure he couldn't see in the faint orange glow of the lanterns, but knew he would feel her discomfort. He did, his one good eyebrow puckering and his hand lifting to brush the back against her forehead, as though checking her temperature. It lingered there, and his rough fingers trailed down her cheek to her jaw, where he cupped her chin in the crook of his slender finger.

Suddenly she was no longer Briar Wilkes, Poor Woman and Working Mother. Once again she was Briar Blue, Naïve Girl and Besotted Wife.

"Are you afraid?"

"No." But her voice was faint and in the darkness she recalled another night in another room with another Leviticus who had asked her the same thing. He leaned in conspiratorially and her heart took off, pulsing against her temple, every nerve ending in her body singing danger.

"You could stay here with me, you know." He looked down into her wide eyes, and in the orange twilight, she was just a girl.

"You're dead."

"I feel awfully alive right now."

"I'm dreaming."

"You don't have to be." His hand had abandoned her chin to trail down her neck and across her shoulder, catching ever so gently on the nightgown she had not realized she was wearing. Now it planted itself on Briar's other side and he hovered over her heavily. His breath fell upon her face warm and thick as the Blight; the smell of dirt and oil and something musky rolled off of him, bringing with it the memories of him.

"You can't be Levi." She tried to protest again, but her confidence was waning against the onslaught of him familiarity. "You're dead."

"Do I feel dead to you?" His gruesome face lowered to hers and he whispered the words against her lips. She closed her eyes and sank back into the pillow, beginning to protest again.

"Hush, love." His lips formed the words against hers, authoritative and confident. Briar's lips pressed back timidly, and she cursed the woman in her for submitting. Levi claimed her submission, slipping a hand into her hair and scooping her head out of the pillow by the back of her neck. His mouth was tight on one side where his scar pulled it back towards his ear, but the other side was warm and soft. Tears spilled past her lids and she murmured into his lips.

"You're dead, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He pulled his head back and looked at her, halfway between stern and amused.

"Love, hush." His mouth found hers while his hands disappeared. Briar didn't notice the missing appendages until he straightened, undoing the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugging it off. She had just enough time to be repulsed by the scars running down his arm and side before he peeled back the blankets, exposing her muslin-clad form to the cold of the room. It was only then that she recognized the gown; it had been her favorite nightgown before the Blight, all white muslin and delicate lace. She'd left it behind when the walls went up. Now she could see every dip and curve and angle of her malnourished body through the thin material and knew he could, too.

Her heart beat a furious rhythm against her chest as he descended on her, her legs instinctually parting. He settled himself there against her pelvis, propped up on his elbows. For a while he was still, breathing slow and steady against her.

He whispered, "Mrs. Blue" against her cheek, beseechingly, punctuating with a kiss there. Then he sighed the name into the hair above her ear and Briar shivered at the sound of it, the way it dripped off his lips like molasses.

He returned to her lips with more urgency, but Briar was similarly responsive. She placed one hand gently against his neck while the other timidly explored his chest and back. Her gentle touch provoked him; he reached down and grabbed a handful of her gown, pulling it up along her thigh. Her responding gasp seemed to encourage him; her gown lifted up her other leg. After a moment his cool hands found their way up her thighs to rest on her bare hips. They made small circles there, exploring her stomach, her sides, sliding over the tops of her thighs. When she felt them rise and take the gown with them, she lifted her hips; she was eager – oh, was she eager. Her female desires had been buried dormant in the very darkest recesses of her being for 16 long years and now they were springing forth and clawing their way to the surface with increasing vehemence.

Levi pulled the nightgown up and off her, exposing her naked flesh stretched tight over her bones. Briar flushed; for all her feminine needs, she was still a lady – being completely exposed under this Leviticus still felt _wrong_. She justified that he was still technically her husband, dead or not, after 16 years or 60 years. In that moment he stopped, and if she could have flushed any redder, she would have. But the look on his face was not scorn, or censure, or condescension; it was awe.

"You are beautiful." He kissed her softly. Her response was a kiss, equally as soft, and her hands snaking around his waist. He reached between them, his hand brushing her stomach and then disappearing. She didn't know what he was doing until she felt the cold metal of his belt against her leg. She froze, and he shimmied his trousers down, down, down, kicking them off. Briar couldn't help herself, she looked down.

She had a child, it isn't as if she didn't know what the male _parts_ looked like, but she and Leviticus had only been intimate a scant few times in their short-lived marriage. Seeing said _parts_ again, pointed at her like some sort of weapon, was the epitome of impropriety – not that conventional notions of propriety had really applied to her since the Blight had marked her descent into pariahdom. She averted her eyes, regardless, much to the condescending amusement of Levi. She opened her mouth to protest his quiet laughter but he silenced her with a forceful kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut and worked her lips against his, her breath catching when he hitched her legs up around his waist.

He held still for a moment, distracting her with his mouth. However, no amount of distraction could numb her to the very foreign feeling of being prodded by something warm and slick at her most intimate place. She gasped outright before Levi muffled her with his mouth, a satisfied grin stretched tight across his ruined lips. Breathing hard and uneven against him, he took the opportunity to work his way across her jaw and down her neck, teasing the sensitive skin there. Between his lips and teeth and the intruding appendage at her core, she was making some very un-Briar-like noises. The blood in her body was pounding against her bruised temple, but stronger still it was throbbing in her womanhood. She writhed in discomfort, arching against him, her soft noises turning into mewls and whimpers. She could feel him smirking into her neck but didn't care.

Slowly, so slowly, he inched his manhood into her. His caution was unnecessary – she'd born a child – she could only surmise he was doing it to torment her. And torturous it certainly was. He only got halfway in before she squeezed her legs around his waist, pulling his pelvis forcefully flush against her own. She sighed at the relief it offered, but Leviticus smirked down at her with increasing darkness. She was frightened long enough for him to pull out, but when he thrust forward into her again, she lost her hold on rational thought.

He stroked in and out of her, slowly, strongly, with increasing speed; like a train. He was thrusting faster, deeper, mashing his lips against hers; one hand braced him against the headboard, and the other roamed down her body, paying special attention to her breasts. In and out, in and out, he hitched up her legs a little and angled his hips some and suddenly, Briar was seeing stars. Every stroke was like pure bliss and the pressure in her womanhood was building to burst.

She gasped and moaned against him, murmuring the awful things she would do to him if he so much as _thought_ about stopping what he was doing, but it all came out as a garbled whine. He managed a chuckle and caught her mouth with his, still thrusting deeply and evenly.

"Faster.." she breathed against his cheek, biting her lip and grinding her hips against his on every stroke. He was unbelievably aroused by such a carnal command and could not but obey her. He hurried his pace, watching the pleasure crash across her features like a tidal wave.

She was ready to burst from the sheer pleasure of it, rocking against him. The pressure built until she thought she would die or wet herself. She felt her release coming and moaned out her pleasure in the form of her lover's name, over and over as the world exploded into stars, her womanhood contracting and pulsing in pure bliss.

Hearing her cry out his name, over and over, and feeling her contract around him, Leviticus was pushed over the edge. He shot his seed deep into her womb, thrusting short and deep, riding out both of their releases. Spent, he dropped down to Briar's side, exhausted. They lay there panting for a while before he cradled her to his chest and pulled the covers over them.

"Levi?" Her voice was a slurred whisper.

"Hmm?"

"I love you." He kissed her forehead.

"I know."

**Well, **there you have it. Please review if you liked it! Or didn't. Or have ever heard of Boneshaker. It'd be nice to know someone somewhere does..


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